


Jackpot.

by lil_slug



Series: Welcome to Hawkins, Indiana! [6]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abuse, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Car Sex, Come Eating, Consensual Underage Sex, Drug Use, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Billy Hargrove, Rape/Non-con Elements, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-23 08:17:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16155176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_slug/pseuds/lil_slug
Summary: Billy doesn't care. He doesn't care about his cunt of a stepsister anymore. He doesn't care about the smell of cow shit that surrounds Hawkins. He doesn't care why the boy he fucks every weekend cries himself to sleep. Or does he?Sequel to 'Can I make you feel this way?' and 'How you're learning.'





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this series to be over, but yeah, I can't leave it like this with Karen raping Mike on a regular basis. Enjoy? btw, racial slurs ahead because this is Billy's POV.

Billy Hargrove. Who is Billy Hargrove? There is only one person in the world who ever asked that question; Billy Hargrove. Because Billy is the only person he knows who has no idea who he is. Of course, people have found more or less adequate words to describe him.

 

Asshole. That‘s true, Billy is the first one to admit it. The first time he beat another kid up was in elementary school. Second grade, back when kids are supposed to be cute and innocent. Billy wasn‘t. He kicked Marcus Spencer in the guts for a quarter and a Milky Way. Now, a good ten years later, Billy still thinks it was worth it. Hell, sometimes he thinks he‘d still kick a seven year old kid in the guts for a quarter and a Milky Way. Because why not? If anything, it would be even easier now. Sometimes he watches those little kids walk out of Hawkins Elementary from his car, imagining all the quarters he could kick out of them. But would it be wise? Probably not. It‘s not worth ending up in prison for that.

 

Drunkard. Billy is not so sure about that one. Is he a drunkard? A boozer? He drinks alright. More than is good for him, actually. A few beers a day, cheap booze on the weekends. Billy is an expert at that. Drunk driving? Not a problem at all, he can do that without raising any suspicion. Once he got pulled over by that fat fuck Chief Hopper while drunk, but Billy is such a fucking great actor, he was let go within a minute. But the word drunkard doesn‘t describe him, because Billy doesn‘t need it. He can go a week, two weeks without drinking. He did that a few times just to prove to himself that he, in fact, isn‘t an addict.

 

Pothead. Also not true. It‘s really the same as with alcohol. Billy smokes pot. He likes the feeling it gives him, the lightheaded euphoria, the swirling, intense colors, the delicious feeling of music thrumming through his veins. But Billy also despises potheads. Those unwashed, disgusting hippies with their ‚Give Peace a Chance‘ attitude. Back in California he took a shit all over their camps whenever he came across them. Sometimes just by tearing them down, sometimes quite literally. Fuck hippies.

 

Rapist. Billy has been called a rapist before. But the bitch who dared to do that didn‘t get to see the sunlight the next day. No, Billy didn‘t kill her. He‘s not a murderer. But he‘s not a rapist either, and he had to make sure she remembers that for the rest of her life. That whore only managed to make him see those images again. A door creaking open at night. A stumbling female figure. A hushed, slurred voice speaking softly. He hates these memories. So he did the only logical thing, he elbowed her in the face maybe five times, and five more times for good measure, dragging her back to her feet after every hit, and as a result she couldn‘t see for at least a week. Well deserved. A year later he still remembers how willingly that dumb cunt spread her legs for him, only becoming the chaste little girl when her daddy found out.

 

So yeah, Billy is many things. But all these words other have described him with aren‘t enough to describe him. He ponders on this when he fucks one of his bitches. He contemplates it when he is speeding down the roads of this cow shit infested nest called Hawkins, drunk out of his mind. He begs his mind for closure when his father‘s fist connects with his jaw.

 

He whispers all those words to himself when he gets up, head throbbing from either booze or yet another beating.

 

* * *

 

Billy grunts, opening his sore eyes. He can feel his slow, steady heartbeat inside of them. The sun is already up, painting orange against the wall opposite to the window. It must be Saturday. They wouldn‘t have let him sleep in if it was a weekday. Saturdays are the best of Billy wants to stay home. With his father at work and only Susan and Maxine at home, he sometimes allows himself to get some peace and quiet. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

 

Billy‘s stomach growls. He is fucking hungry. Since there is no need to stay in bed any longer, and since his alarm clock is already showing 9AM, meaning he only has seven hours left until everything turns to shit again with the arrival of Neil, he heaves himself up, listening intently to the noises of the house. Just to be absolutely sure it‘s safe to leave his room. No telltale signs of anyone other than Susan and Maxine. Billy pulls his shirt from yesterday over his head. It still smells of cigarettes, cologne and pussy.

 

„I‘ve made blueberry muffins.“ his stepmother greets him, setting down a batch of said muffins on the plaid tablecloth. She smiles. Susan only does that when Neil isn‘t home. That‘s why Billy doesn‘t hate her. He eats his muffins under Maxine‘s boring gaze. His stepsister doesn‘t talk to him. She hasn‘t in a long time, only the necessary bits. Things between them have changed since that night he almost killed that little bitch Harrington. Billy would like to say this is scraping away on his pride, though it isn‘t, surprisingly. He can‘t bring himself to care.

 

„Will you take Max to the arcade after breakfast?“ Susan asks casually. Such a simple thing, a question. Internally, this has Billy grateful. Neil would never ask him, he‘d order Billy to do it. The way Susan does it makes it easier to say yes.

 

„Yeah, whatever.“ he grunts. „What time am I gonna pick her up?“

 

„You can ask me that. I‘m right here.“ Maxine hisses, making Billy chuckle indignantly.

 

„Alright, Maxine. What time am I gonna pick you up?“

 

„Three.“ she says coldly.

 

„Fine.“ Billy answers, but adds in a too low voice for his stepmother to hear „Don‘t get yourself knocked up by your little nigger.“ Just because he‘s not going to let that goddamn redhead tell him what to do, or what not to do. For now he allows himself to enjoy the, arguably, delicious muffins.

 

* * *

 

Of course, Maxine‘s nigger boy is there, waiting for her in front of the arcade with his little loser friends when Billy pulls up to the parking lot. Yeah, Billy would love to give him a piece of his mind, but that‘s just another one of these things that would be incredibly satisfying on the short run, and incredibly stupid on the long run. And Billy is by no means stupid.

 

„You said three?“ he grunts at his stepsister.

 

„Yeah.“ Maxine says.

 

„I want you out here waiting. Either that, or you‘re walking home.“ Billy orders, and then pushes her out of the car as to avoid any backtalk from her. He doesn‘t need that shit. Of course, he is responsible, meaning that he at least has to see her off and make sure she gets inside safely. Billy takes the opportunity to inspect her so called ‚friends‘.

 

Well, there‘s the nigger. Billy is pretty sure that kid has plowed Maxine more than once. Probably given her AIDS. Not really, but Billy sometimes chuckles to himself at the thought. Especially at night, when there‘s nothing to do but stare at the ceiling.

 

Then, there‘s the one with the lisp. Something‘s wrong with him, even though Billy can‘t make out what exactly it is. His whole stature looks off, and if that one is allowed to fuck her too, they might produce some disgusting cripple baby together.

 

There‘s the weirdo. This creep of a girl who always looks like she‘s either afraid or enraged. Billy has no idea where she comes from, only that he better not mess with her, as she appears to be the Police Chief‘s daughter.

 

The smallest one, Billy thinks people call him ‚Zombie Boy‘ is pretty cute, admittedly. Probably a good cockwarmer. Probably hard to get into, though. Especially with his sicko of a brother hovering around him most times.

 

And then, there‘s the one with the black hair. Marty. Or Micky. Or whatever his name is. Billy thinks the kid‘s mom is a real cougar, his sister is a well known stripper down at Ron's club, and the boy is pretty sexy in his own right. A weird kid who is just growing into something one might call cute. Too bad his bitch of a mother never lets him into her house anymore. Just this one time back in November, and he had more urgent matters to take care of back then. Billy never got his chance to stick his dick up her cunt. As for Marty, he looks completely fucked up. At least to Billy he does. His eyes are blurry, his back hunched, and he is the only one who doesn‘t really smile, despite holding hands with the weirdo.

 

There is something familiar about his whole demeanor. If Billy could only tell where he has seen this posture, these tense shoulders, these dark eyebags before. It feels like it was a long time ago in a life he has almost forgotten.

 

But Billy just shrugs. There are more important things he has to tend to today. He presses the accelerator down in neutral, enjoying the sight of a bunch of high school bitches jumping at the sound. Only after a few more of these does Billy drop his Camaro into gear, taking of with screeching tires.

 

As he rolls along the streets of this dead-end town, Billy rolls down his window, breathing in. The stench of cow shit isn‘t as prevalent here as it is outside of town. Here, it‘s all just spring. A time of year Billy has missed out on so far. Back home in California the weather just went from warm to hot to warm, and so on. There really wasn‘t anything in between, but he has to admit, this is a welcome relief.

 

Billy‘s spirits are high when he pulls into the driveway. Just a quick stop. He leaves the engine running, deciding to walk in through the garage where Tommy will be waiting for him. The asshole grins like the retard he is when Billy finds him in a plastic chair behind his mother‘s station wagon.

 

„That‘s gonna be twenty bucks, Billy-Boy.“ Tommy H. says in a factual tone. „Or do you want the deluxe package?“

 

„Fuck you.“ Billy emphasizes both words equally. „Just give me the stuff and I‘m out of here.“ He hands over a twenty, at which Tommy looks honestly insulted.

 

„What, no negotiation? Don‘t want a better deal?“

 

„Fuck you.“ Billy repeats. God, why do dealers in this hell hole have to be so annoying. Tommy probably knows his ‚business‘ from B-movies or porn films. „I‘m not one of these poor shits from middle school. You know I could just take what I want from you, right?“

 

„But you‘re paying me.“ Tommy sighs, grabbing the money from Billy‘s hand. „Thank god for that.“ On the outside he looks entirely relaxed, but Billy recognizes the act. The fact that Tommy is so scared of him gives him immense satisfaction.

 

He is absolutely right, it would be easy to just beat the shit out of Tommy, but he won‘t, despite all threats. Billy just knows what it‘s like to be a dealer. Ecstasy is damn expensive, and losing twenty Dollars worth of it is a minor catastrophe if there‘s a higher up dealer to pay. Billy is an asshole. But he considers himself fair, even with a moron like Tommy H.. He gets his pack of little pink pills in return, and just like earlier only drives off after playing with the gas for a few times again.

 

His next stop is what people around here call ‚downtown‘. They mean it, but if Billy calls it that, he‘s just being ironic. At least there‘s a liquor store. At least there are homeless slobs around here most days. „Five bucks, grandpa?“ he asks one of them, the filthiest one he can find.

 

„Yeah. What‘s it gonna be?“ the old man asks through his barely existent teeth. Disgusting.

 

„Vodka. Cheapest you can get.“ Not that Billy would actually mind paying more for quality booze. But a homeless guy asking for something more exquisite than ‚cheap‘ raises suspicion. That wouldn‘t be a problem if Billy could find a way to avoid being carded. Back in California he just blackmailed one of these liquor store owners, but so far he hasn‘t been able to find anything about this Mr Burke. Regardless, people around here are all good friends with the Police Chief, so the risk isn‘t worth it.

 

Sighing, Billy hands the filthy old slob the money plus his reward, and leans back to wait out of sight. The man soon returns with Billy‘s booze. A simple, clear glass bottle with some nonsensical Commie-letters on it. The same stuff Billy always buys. He drinks it like water.

 

Back in his car, he decides he is well enough equipped for a Saturday night. Now it‘s just a matter of waiting until he is supposed to pick Maxine up. After that he‘ll be free to find another bitch to drug and fuck from behind. That‘s not too hard around here.

 

* * *

 

Billy wasn‘t planning for this, but half of his vodka bottle is already gone when he arrives back at the arcade in the afternoon. He is fine with driving, but by now his bladder feels close to bursting out of him. Maxine looks distraught when she spies his Camaro and slips into the passenger‘s seat, but Billy stops her there. „Wait here, Maxine.“

 

„What? First you tell me to be on time, then you-“

 

„I gotta take a leak. Okay, Maxine? Either in there, or in here.“ To emphasize, Billy rummages around under his seat until he finds the empty plastic bottle he left there a few weeks back. „In here?“ he asks.

 

Maxine gives him an expression of greatest disgust, before turning her face away from him. „It‘s not like I can stop you.“

 

„No. But it‘s not like you can stop me going inside. Seriously, I‘m not gonna piss in my car.“ Billy continues chuckling to himself as he walks up to the arcade. He hasn‘t been in one of these in a while. Mainly because he can‘t stand the presence of greasy, twenty year old virgins. They‘re disgusting, fat, acne-ridden losers not worth his time.

 

He rushes past the blinking lights, past the screens displaying colors, numbers, pixels that make up figures and monsters, through the repulsing stench of popcorn mixed with virgin sweat and Cheetos. Thinking about it now, virgin sweat and Cheetos might actually smell the same, considering how much of that junk these people swallow.

 

Well, at least the bathroom isn‘t disgusting. The floor here is tiled, it‘s not sticky like the carpet, and the whole place smells just... neutral. Three stalls, that‘s all there is. Of course, no urinals. These idiots like some privacy while jerking each other off.

 

Billy gets it over with. He takes a leak like he had planned, and is already on his way out, when he hears it. For a second he actually believes he stumbled into the girls‘ bathroom on accident, because the sound is undoubtedly that of a girl throwing up. But no, the sign outside clearly says ‚Boys‘.

 

„Hey.“ he grunts. „Someone dying in there?“ It can only be the stall to the far left.

 

No answer. The gagging and now _splashing_ sounds don‘t stop, however. Billy is always one for watching a kid throw up, especially if this later gives him ammunition when he meets said kid at school, so he doesn‘t hesitate to climb the toilet set next to the locked stall and spy down.

 

Billy knows that kid. It‘s Micky, or Marty, whatever. The one with the hot mom. And the kid glares up at Billy with utter disgust. „What do _you_ want?“ he spits. „Piss off.“

 

„Hey, one more of these and I‘m gonna break your nose.“ Billy threatens. „That what I get for being nice, or what?“

 

„Nice, what-“ Marty starts, but then another wave of nausea seemingly hits and he throws up again. Billy smirks at the sight.

 

„Yeah, I‘m being nice. What‘s wrong? You drunk or what?“

 

„I‘m not drunk.“ the boy sniffs into the toilet bowl. Oh, this is just too much fun to stop now. Watching from up here, the kid‘s ass sticks out nicely. It‘s round and looks firm, but also soft enough to sink fingernails into. Wouldn‘t that be nice? Maybe, if he does it right, Billy won‘t have to find a girl for tonight.

 

„Then you‘re sick?“ he presses.

 

„I‘m not!“ Marty insists.

 

Billy sighs long and exaggerated. „Marty, if you don‘t tell me what‘s wrong, I can‘t help you.“

 

„It‘s... it‘s Mike.“ he presses out.

 

„Mike?“ Billy snorts. „Really? But you‘re that Wheeler kid, right? The one with the whore mother?“

 

At those words, more vomit splutters out of Mike. This time it even hits the lid, from where it slowly runs down. Mike is crying now, with thick strings of snot dripping out of his little nostrils. „Go away.“ he sobs.

 

„Jesus Christ.“ Billy utters. „You‘re a fucking mess. You sure you‘re not gonna die down there?“

 

„I‘m fine! Fuck off!“ Mike insists, and Billy secretly marvels at his sass. The kid witnessed him literally beating Harrington to a bloody mess, and still he dares to talk back like that.

 

„Careful. I might have to punish you, Mikey.“ Billy warns, smirking. „Tell you what. I‘m gonna pick you up from home. Ten thirty tonight.“

 

„W-why?“ the boy sniffles.

 

„Because I want to. Got something to make you feel better, I promise. Wait up by the garage.“ Billy orders, before heading outside. A sense of certainty blooms up in his chest, and he grins to himself. Yeah, he‘s in for a great night.

 

„What took you so long?“ Maxine asks, impatience painted all over her face.

 

But if anyone‘s got a reason to be impatient now, Billy does. The kid, _Mike_ , looked desperate enough to actually come outside tonight. For Billy, this is gonna be a first in this town. The last boy he fucked was some middle school loser back in California.

 

„Maybe I took a shit.“ he chuckles at her, enjoying the disgust that warps her expression.

 

„Didn‘t know shit can produce more shit.“

 

Billy just laughs. He is in too good a mood to let her insult him. Maybe he goes twice the speed limit to scare Maxine a little on the way home. Maybe he goes twice the speed limit because he has already had half a bottle of vodka. Who knows?

 

* * *

 

That night, Billy refrains from driving too aggressively. He doesn‘t need Mike‘s cougar mother waking up and asking him why he is abducting her son in the middle of the night. Instead, Billy drives slowly, whistling a made up tune to himself all the way over to the Wheelers‘ house.

 

It‘s a fancy place, he has noticed that before. Billy has no idea how that woman can even keep it, now that her husband is gone. Yeah, these things don‘t stay a secret around here. A nasty breakup with divorce in one of the wealthiest families in town? It‘s a small wonder the local newspaper didn‘t make it a headline.

 

Lo and behold, the boy is actually waiting by the garage. He still looks pale. Perhaps he really is sick, but Billy wouldn‘t bet on it. Earlier today, his behavior matched more that of kid who is in trouble. And god, Billy hopes Mike is in trouble. That would make getting into his pants just so much easier. What that trouble is, though, well that‘s none of Billy‘s business. He knows everything he needs to know to use it to his advantage.

 

Carefully, the boy approaches the Camaro. Billy‘s window is already down, allowing him to huff some cigarette smoke into Mike‘s face, who coughs immediately. „What‘s this about?“

 

„Please.“ Billy says. „Does it matter? You‘ve already decided. Get in.“

 

Mike looks down on his feet, a glimpse of utter defeat warping his features. A shaky sigh escapes him when he walks around the car and slips into the passenger‘s seat. „What‘s this about?“ he repeats. „Where are we going.“

 

Billy steps on the accelerator, still watching the boy next to him closely. „I‘m gonna fuck you.“ Mike doesn‘t even react. He stares at the dashboard with somewhat dead eyes. „Unless you don‘t want to.“

 

"I got a choice?"

 

„I‘m not a fucking rapist.“ Billy returns harshly, turning his eyes to the dark road. „But if you say no, you‘re gonna lose your reward?“

 

„Reward?“

 

„Just wait and see.“ He lights a cigarette and listens with amusement as Mike begins coughing. Billy hands the butt over. „Take a drag.“ To his surprise, Mike does, not even hesitantly. The smoke slowly escapes his nostrils, but only until he suffers another coughing fit.

 

„I don‘t like it.“ the boy states.

 

„Yeah? I don‘t care.“ Billy chuckles. „You‘re gonna take another.“ And Mike does, once again. This is almost too easy, but Billy is satisfied. „Such a good little bitch, hm? Know your place.“ And god, he loves the delicious whimper the boy produces when Billy reaches over and pinches one of his little nipples through his shirt. „I‘m gonna try to make it nice for you.“

 

Billy isn‘t even lying. He doesn‘t want to see his boy in _too much_ pain. Pain is a vital part of shaping a good bitch, but if it‘s too much, he might end up running away. But this one is just way too delicious to scare away.

 

* * *

 

Billy has the kid bent over the hood of his Camaro down by Lover‘s Lake. They‘re alone from what he can tell. It‘s a nice spring night, sure, but maybe a little bit too cold for the average teenage couple to come down here and fuck. Billy doesn‘t care if it‘s chilly. And he sure as hell doesn‘t care if Mike cares. The kid shivers beneath him, but that might just be his index finger slowly pumping in and out of him from behind.

 

Billy curls his finger once, causing Mike to mewl desperately, sniffing a few times. „Hurts.“ he complains. „Don‘t stop.“

 

„I‘m not gonna stop, don‘t worry. Ready for another one?“ Billy whispers into the boy‘s ear, and, without waiting for a response adds his middle finger. Mike‘s response is immediate. He cries into the night air like a hurt deer, but there is also a layer of lust to it that confirms Billy‘s skills with boys.

 

He opens Mike up for a while, because Billy will stay true to his word. This isn‘t the time or place to actually hurt his little toy. He takes his time, staying at two fingers for almost five minutes before he jams his ring finger inside too. It‘s then that he starts scissoring, and while this makes Mike cry in earnest, Billy knows it‘s more or less show. An pathetic attempt to gain Billy‘s pity.

 

„It‘s nice, huh?“ he murmurs. His teeth nibble on Mike‘s earlobe. „Yeah, I know you like it. Want me to fuck you?“

 

Mike only sobs.

 

„You‘re a good little slut for me. C‘mon, I wanna see your face when I get inside.“ Billy forcefully turns Mike around, seating him upright on the hood of his car. His face, bright red and with streaks of tears all over it, is only part of it, though. Billy wants to be able to bite the kid‘s nipples. „Last chance to say no.“ he whispers. „But you‘re desperate for my cock, right?“

 

Mike responds by wiggling himself closer to the edge of the hood, spreading his legs a little more. His crying won‘t stop, but that‘s just another delicious perk of all this. Billy likes it when they cry. He doesn‘t care why they do it, just that they do it. Thick, salty droplets, snot bubbling from their nostrils. It should disgust him, though it only makes Billy‘s cock throb.

 

With only a minimal amount of lube, Billy finally enters Mike. And god, he‘s so fucking tight, even after a solid ten minutes of spreading his little cunt. How long does it take Billy to bottom out? Ten seconds or more, probably. By then, Mike‘s earth-shattering screech has turned into wet, childish wailing noises.

 

„Enjoy this?“ Billy chuckles. „Shit, you really got a nice virgin ass. I bet you‘re gonna cum from that alone, huh?“ Billy draws a bit of blood and more screeching sounds when he bites down on the sensitive flesh around the boy‘s nipple.

 

He doesn‘t do it too hard, just repeatedly, until that familiar taste of copper trickles down his tongue. Just a minimal amount of blood. „Good boy.“ he croons, still thrusting slowly.

 

When Mike reaches down between them in an attempt to get some friction on his own small dick, Billy slaps away his hand, though, chuckling. „Nope. You‘re gonna cum on my cock. Never had anything up your ass, right?“

 

A dark blush spreads across the kid‘s face, he whines, unsuccessfully attempting to hide his shameful eyes with his slim hands. For a while, something like a stalemate ensues. Billy fucking, Mike receiving, crying, sobbing, but not coming. It‘s more like Billy‘s cock keeps him on a desperate edge.

 

Mike does cum eventually, though, after Billy speeds up his thrusts to a point where it‘s almost hurting him. The boy‘s little cock that‘s standing up from a tiny nest of black curls, swollen red, looks like it‘s about to explode in those last few seconds leading up to his release. Billy doesn‘t touch it once and stays true to his principle of not letting Mike jerk himself off. It‘s a pride thing, making a boy cum just by fucking deep into his ass.

 

„Such a good little cunt.“ Billy praises. „You should see yourself, all wasted and fucked out.“ Knowing that these last few thrusts Billy needs to shoot his load are the most painful for his boy, he hurries up. It‘s a bit disappointing, to be honest. Billy has only himself to blame. What was he thinking, draining half a bottle of vodka in the afternoon?

 

When it‘s over Billy takes Mike with him into the backseat. Engine running, heater turned up to make them comfortable, he lets the kid cry it out against his shoulder. Billy keeps his toy naked for the time being, just because he enjoys the sight and the way he can dig his fingernails in the soft padding of Mike‘s ass to make him whine a little more.

  
„Promised you a reward, didn‘t I?“

 

„Yeah.“ Mike rasps out.

 

„Close your eyes.“ Billy orders, as if that was necessary. Mike has kept his eyes shut for the last twenty minutes. „And open up.“ When Mike obeys, Billy drops one of the little pills into his mouth. He swallows without being told to. „Such a good little slut. So good for me.“

 

It‘s going to take a while for the pill to take effect. Billy is content with squeezing Mike‘s little fuzzy balls a bit for the time being. His half-hard cock spreads some cold, leftover cum on Billy‘s wrist, so he brings it up for Mike to lick it off, again without being told to. _Yeah_ , Billy thinks, _this boy is a jackpot._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know how long it's gonna take to write Chapter 2.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh well, I guess it's gonna be three chapters. I could have made this a long one, but I just didn't feel like it.

Billy Hargrove. An asshole. A guy who smokes pot but despises potheads. A guy who can down a bottle in ten minutes and still drive in a straight line, but hates drunkards. A womanizer who hasn‘t even touched a woman in a month by his own free will. They tried it, all those bitches at school. Carol made more than one clumsy attempt at seducing Billy. Well, she looks reasonably good, but Billy would never stick his dick in anything Tommy H. has touched. Disgusting.

 

It wasn‘t just Carol, of course. High School seniors are hungry for dick, that‘s a universal law as old as High School itself. Pretty much every cunt with the confidence to talk to him tried to get in his pants. But Billy only made sure to think of a good rebuff to completely ruin their confidence. These whores got nothing he wants. He doesn‘t even touch them to push them away.

 

Because why would he still touch a woman, when he literally is in possession of the most delicious plaything this residual redneck town has to offer? Mike Wheeler isn‘t the first boy he fucked by a long shot. This was a regular thing back in California; something easy, something to do when he couldn‘t find a willing girl, or if the one he chose for the night didn‘t turn out tight enough. Though things are, admittedly, a bit different here in Indiana, and Billy isn‘t sure if he should like this. Really, sometimes at night he thinks he should just drop the boy. Forget about him, let him go back to whatever trouble he is suffering through.

 

He remembers California vividly. How he used to pick up his toys from their middle school, find a nice secluded place, ram his dick up their asses and then leave them somewhere by the side of the road. It was normal. Hell, Billy didn‘t waste a second thought on them back then. He just had a good eye for weak boys. Boys who would agree and sometimes even come crawling back to him. Use them, throw them away. Like meat condoms. Hey, they can‘t say they didn‘t have it coming. They said yes to everything, because Billy is _not_ a rapist.

 

Discarding a toy after using it... That‘s not what Billy does with Mike, though. Never. He couldn‘t, even if he wanted to, and that‘s what‘s most worrying to him. The thought of leaving his boy, or being left by his boy, weighs heavy on his chest when he is lying awake in his dark room in the early morning hours. How could Billy Hargrove, destroyer of virgin asses, ever soften up like that?

 

* * *

 

He only can bring himself to care when he‘s not with the boy. How could he, when the sight that presents itself to him is such a beautiful one. Mike seated in Billy‘s lap, stripped of any clothing, slick with pearly sweat that makes nibbling on his craned neck even more enjoyable.

 

To Billy, nothing looks, or _sounds_ better than Mike Wheeler, fucked out of his mind, high on Ecstasy and booze, writhing under his touch, sobbing softly into the silence of the car. This can go on for hours if Billy feels like it. Mike sitting there, swinging his entire little body to a rhythm only he can hear, while Billy uses just two fingers to tease him a bit. For a long time, an entire night, he holds his boy‘s dick between his thumb and index finger, stroking, circling, just to enjoy the desperate whining noises he can coax out of Mike.

 

He tugs on the few little hairs that sprinkle his balls, gently bites his nipples, sometimes enters him again with just one finger to scrape some cum out of his used but still tight butthole. Mike lets Billy feed it to him like the obedient slut he is.

 

When Billy finally drives him home just an hour before sunrise, he does it without letting Mike cum for a second time. Sure, the kid does shoot his load whenever Billy fucks him up the ass, but the teasing leaves him ready, eager to take Billy‘s cock over and over again. That‘s what Billy likes the most; his kid going home in need for more. Something he‘s only going to get whenever Billy decides it‘s time again. Granted, this is now about three times a week, because Billy can‘t stand being separated from his boy for more than a few days at a time.

 

That‘s the truth, no matter how many times he tells himself it‘s the other way around. It‘s not Mike who comes back to Billy. Billy always goes on crawling back to Mike. Every time that realization hits, Billy finds himself convinced, he is completely and utterly fucked.

 

* * *

 

„Where are you going?“ Billy can only imagine Maxine‘s scowl when she is asking him that. No reason to look at her as he scrambles for his keys and jacket.

 

„None of your business, is it?“ he snaps. „Just be glad I‘m gone. Nothing to stop you spreading your legs for your little friends tonight.“ _For all of them except one_ , Billy thinks. Because that one is his. His alone. No one else will ever touch him, will ever _have_ him the way Billy has him.

 

It‘s mildly frustrating how she doesn‘t even respond to his insult. „Neil said you gotta stay.“

 

„Yeah? Like I care what he says.“ Billy snarls. He leaves his stepsister there on the couch, wondering why she even tried to get him to stay. They hate each other, that‘s not exactly a secret. Maxine should be glad he‘s gone, just like Billy is glad to be rid of her for tonight. His piece of shit father can suck his balls. He‘s not gonna be back before noon tomorrow anyways, and Maxine should be damn grateful she gets some alone time to suck some black cock in private.

 

In high spirits Billy makes the stroll to his car out by the curb. He stops just for a second to remove a stain from the hood with some spit and the sleeve of his denim jacket. The door slams when he gets in. His V8 roars, it makes the tires screech with its sheer power, and Billy speeds off without a second look at the house. One hand on the wheel, he assures himself that his special equipment is still in the glove box. Cheap bourbon, one that resembles vile rubbing alcohol from the drug store more than anything. A few boxes of cigarettes, they are always in there, really. And, of course, a bag of weed, just to spice things up. Well, mainly because Tommy H. is out of town and Billy can‘t seem to get his hands on Ecstasy.

 

It‘s already dark out, naturally, because Billy wouldn‘t want anyone like curious small town neighbors noticing the Wheeler boy heading off with known troublemaker Billy Hargrove. For the entire drive, he keeps the window rolled down. It‘s nice and warm now, with spring slowly turning into a summer that Billy knows will be memorable for him. How couldn‘t it be, with all the nights he has ahead of him?

 

He arrives just in time to find Mike sneaking out of the garage. „Hey, good looking.“ Billy teases through the open window.

 

A bright blush creeps over the boy‘s face, as he mumbles „Hi...“

 

„So shy tonight, huh?“ Billy murmurs. He gently reaches out to pull Mike down by his shirt collar. „Come, get in. I got something new for you tonight.“ Billy underlines his words by carefully biting Mike‘s earlobe, before letting him go to pace around the car.

 

It really is nice and warm, but that also poses a problem. Billy changes the usual route this time, and Mike probably only remains oblivious because he is already in the middle of undressing. The first time he did that weeks ago, Billy objected. He likes undressing his plaything by himself. But Mike had pleaded with him to let him undress on his own, and well, Billy couldn‘t say no. That‘s how far gone he already is. Why Mike doesn‘t allow Billy to do it is beyond him, though. Might have something to do with the trouble Billy doesn‘t ask about and Mike doesn‘t talk about.

 

So, for about half of the way, Billy drives with a naked recently turned fourteen year old in the passenger‘s seat. A risk, really, but also deliciously exciting. Billy‘s fingers end up lightly tugging and scraping at Mike‘s scarce pubes to be able to keep himself from looking.

 

„Not gonna go to Lover‘s Lake anymore.“ he sighs. „That was damn close.“ Billy is, of course, referring to how they almost got caught last weekend. That‘s the downside of the rising temperatures; more people outside at night. Sattler‘s quarry will do just fine.

 

„I don‘t like this place.“ Mike utters when he recognizes the path through the woods.

 

„I know.“ Billy appeases. He has no idea why. None of his business. „You don‘t have to look at it, okay? Besides, you‘re my slut and you go where I want you to go. Got it?“ God, Billy‘s resolution is seriously wavering. He‘s having a hard time being dominant, actually, and the way the boy sniffs only makes it worse.

 

Didn‘t he love his crying just a few weeks back? Now all he feels is the need to hold him and tell him it‘s okay. _Man up, Hargrove!_ he thinks to himself.

 

* * *

 

Billy feels like using the backseat tonight, just for a change. Mike will have to fuck himself on Billy‘s cock that way, something entirely new as opposed to bending him over the hood, or even sitting him down and taking him from up front, which really is Billy‘s favorite position.

 

„Here, try this.“ Billy offers, passing the now lit joint over to Mike. „You gotta really inhale this.“ The first wave of dizziness has already hit him by then. It‘s beautiful serenity and tingly numbness. Mike is used to smoking by now. It still makes him cough, straining his naked body as he convulses. Billy is right there immediately, with gentle fingers moving against the kid‘s throat to ease him through the first hit.

 

„B-Billy...“ he rasps.

 

„Shh...“ Billy soothes. „It‘s gonna feel really good soon. And then I‘m gonna fuck you, okay? Here, lemme try something.“ He takes another deep drag, with the lung of an expert and no signs of coughing, before leaning over. Mike opens parts his lips as if he already knows what‘s coming, making it easy for Billy to exhale the smoke into his mouth forcefully.

 

„Hmm...“ the boy hums with gray smoke flowing from his small nostrils. „So good.“

 

„See?“ Billy smirks, hand finding it‘s way in between Mike‘s spread legs. He fondles his half-hard little dick there until it stands up angry and red, separated from the pale skin of his stomach by still soft black hair. His dickhead, so sensitive at the touch, is soon slick with precum, and Mike won‘t stop arching his back anymore. At some point he even attempts to rut into Billy‘s hand, squeaking like a little child being denied his candy.

 

„Oh come on. Can‘t be _that_ eager.“

 

Shamefully, Mike presses his face into Billy‘s denim-clad shoulder. „Please!“ he pleads. „Billy, please!“

 

„Yeah, yeah.“ Bill soothes. „Just gonna go spread you a bit. Don‘t want to get hurt now, do you?“ Truth is, Billy doesn‘t want to hurt Mike. Not anymore. The first few times he just spread his asshole enough to get in without ripping skin apart. After a month of this, against all expectations, Billy is suddenly trying to make it more enjoyable for Mike.

 

He takes his time. Mike straddling his lap gives Billy excellent access, and he uses it to its fullest. One finger first. Then a second one, all while purposely missing his boy‘s prostate. That‘s what Billy‘s cock is for. Speaking of which, it‘s already painfully hard against his tight jeans. He grants himself some release by opening the button and zipper up.

 

Mike only begins sobbing at Billy‘s third finger intruding, and even then it‘s soft, more caused by absolute need and desperation rather than pain. Billy feels compelled to kiss the tears away, his own softness feels disgusting to him. Long gone are the days when he would rip a kid‘s asshole with his cock and later get hard at the memory alone. „You ready for me?“

 

„So ready, Billy.“ Mike arches is back.

 

„Good boy.“ Billy praises. „One more hit?“

 

The inherently obedient boy parts his lips to let Billy press more smoke into his small lungs. Before Mike has even exhaled all of it, Billy lifts his light body up with both hands around his hips, and then slowly drops him on his raging boner.

 

Mike‘s scream is muffled by the skin on Billy‘s neck. Some of his spit and tears run down there to wet Billy‘s shirt. But nothing else happens for a while, until Billy coos „Come on, pretty boy. Gotta fuck yourself tonight.“

 

 _Oh wow_ , Billy thinks when Mike actually starts rocking himself back and forth. It‘s shallow at first. more grinding his ass against Billy‘s thighs than really fucking, but soon changes when the boy realizes he won‘t get himself off that way. That‘s when he really begins bobbing up and down.

 

The stretch must still be a lot for him, despite the good preparation. Mike weeps pitifully, shaking. His small dick bobs in the rhythm of his fucking, with only minimal friction against Billy‘s shirt whenever he leans forwards. A long string of precum connects them. With his fingers Billy scoops as much of it up as he can, bringing it up to Mike‘s face. They boy greedily laps at it. His eyes are so goddamn red. If from crying or just because he‘s high as fuck, that‘s impossible to know. It must be both.

 

„Fuck yourself good.“ Billy grunts. „Yeah, that‘s it. Take my cock like you were made for it.“ Since it‘s Mike‘s responsibility to find the right angle, and since he can‘t quite seem to do that, judging from his brutal panting and frustrated whining, Billy decides he might relent this one time.

 

Mike‘s dick is tiny in his large hand, barely sticking out the top when Billy fists around it. There‘s no need to do anything else than keep his hand there. Mike desperately fucks into Billy‘s hand as soon as he feels the tight grip. „This better, hm?“ Billy croons. „Gotta get you off.“

 

„Billy...“ Mike whines. „S‘good. Hurts good. So good, Billy... Billy, I-“ A shriek later he shoots his load. Powerful enough to actually hit Billy‘s neck and chin from underneath, where it sticks as milky-white, warm slime.

 

„You gonna clean that up?“ Billy chuckles, withdrawing his hand from the boy‘s cock.

 

Mike does clean it up, just lapping at it until it‘s all gone, replaced with his slick saliva. He hums in contentment, but after weeks of this also doesn‘t forget Billy hasn‘t cum yet. Oh the willpower it must take to keep on fucking after the overstimulation has set in. Mike begins crying for real, and the painful sound of it would be enough to make Billy stop and pull out immediately if he wasn‘t so far gone. But it takes just five more thrusts and Billy empties his load into Mike‘s ass.

 

Billy has just regained his senses when Mike suddenly all but yells „Don‘t leave! Please!“

 

Chuckling, Billy moves to lift the boy off himself. „I‘m not going anywhere.“

 

Mike, meanwhile, presses himself down on Billy‘s cock with all his strength. „Don‘t leave!“ he repeats. „I mean... I mean... stay.“

 

„Inside?“ Billy raises an eyebrow.

 

„Yeah.“ Now, who is Billy to deny Mike this. Using him as a cockwarmer, that‘s new. Actually, it sounds unbelievably sexy, and it already feels so deliciously warm with Billy‘s half-hard dick nestled deep inside his boy.

 

„Okay.“ he sighs. „Okay. I‘m not gonna leave. Here.“ Billy reaches over to take the remaining half of their joint from its tray, re-igniting it. He lets Mike have the rest, just opting to watch in awe as his flat chest heaves and deflates, limp cock leaking into Billy‘s lap.

 

* * *

 

Billy has to admit, this is a new situation, unlike anything he has experienced with any of the boys he had before Mike. Well, these kids pale in comparison to this new one, this perfect one that Billy wants to keep forever if he can.

 

Mike is asleep. It‘s been an hour or more, and still Billy‘s cock is buried in the kid‘s tight asshole. It‘s still warm, it still feels wet and slick with his seed. If only he could stay in this position forever. A while ago he has taken off his jacket and draped it around Mike‘s bare shoulders, as if that was necessary. The kid is like a human stove against him. Could be the weed.

 

Listening to Mike gently snoring into the crook of his neck is so soothing, his breath that hitches in a wet sob from time to time, is moist and hot. Every time the boy squeals in his sleep, his asshole clenches around Billy.

 

And even after committing all these sins, he still smells clean and innocent. But he also smells like Billy. Marked. _His own_. No one else is ever going to have him like Billy has him. There may be creeps out there, dumb fuckers who‘ll try and get in his pants. And as soon as they‘re close enough to smell _Billy_ on him, they‘re going to run for their lives.

 

While Billy still luxuriates in that knowledge, grinning to himself, Mike‘s voice pipes up in soft murmuring. It‘s completely unintelligible, too quiet to actually hear a lot, but it‘s there. He‘s talking in his sleep.

 

„Shhh.“ Billy hushes gently. „Shhh. It‘s okay.“

 

However, it does nothing to calm his boy. If anything, his mumbling becomes more intense, until Billy can distinguish one or two words. Mostly _„Mommy...“_ and _„Stop!“_. His brows furrow with increasing irritation, so he decides to listen. The words repeat for the most part. It‘s all just Mike begging his mother to stop whatever she‘s doing.

 

„ _Billy...“_ The moment it clicks in his mind, the world starts spinning violently around him. Blurry vision. A silhouette in the doorframe. A voice from his past. _„Billy, sweetie. Come to mommy.“_ No! Billy‘s mind is suddenly reeling, with wave after wave of nausea washing up from his stomach, so intense he thinks he might have to vomit. _„Mommy loves you, Billy...“_ Weed. Billy needs more. His heart is gonna burst out of his chest if he doesn‘t get it. There‘s nothing left! He‘s going to die! Calm down! Calm down! Calm-

 

When did he start shaking Mike so violently? It‘s his small, insecure voice that pulls Billy back into reality. „Billy?“ Their eyes lock. Billy hopes he can convey something like understanding.

 

It doesn‘t take a lot of strength to lift the boy off his cock and place him on the soft leather padding of the backseat. „You were dreaming.“ Billy rasps out at Mike‘s questioning expression. He needs time to swallow the bile that has gathered on his tongue in a bitter puddle of realization.

 

„Y-yeah?“ Mike questions. He obviously doesn‘t remember.

 

„Nightmare.“ Billy goes on. His right hand slams down on his shaking left hand to hide it. He‘s not some weak pussy with twitchy panic attacks. Not in front of his boy anyways. „You... talked. About... fucking hell.“

 

It‘s no use. The more Billy tries to play over his distress, the more obvious it becomes. This isn‘t okay. Nothing about this is okay. Not what‘s happening to Mike. Not how Billy shamelessly used it to his advantage without a second thought. What is asking for consent worth if Mike is already so fucked up in the head that it limits his ability to actually say no? But Billy can‘t be a rapist. _He can‘t!_

 

However, Mike is still there with him, shivering a little, pushing himself into Billy‘s side. And Billy can‘t help it. His arm drapes around his boy in a tight grip. „What did she do to you?“ he croaks, as if he really wants to know. Whatever it is, this boy is just too precious for it. He deserves nice things, and Billy is gonna be damned if he doesn‘t get them.

 

It takes less than three seconds, and next to him, Mike has dissolved into a pitiful mess of sobs, tears, and clinging little fists that clutch into the fabric of Billy‘s shirt.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's actually here. Can you believe it?  
> Guys, this is more disgusting than hot, but I this is just how it HAS to play out.

Billy Hargrove. A true and utter asshole. Someone who doesn‘t think twice, who sees a cute little boy in trouble and uses his imposing physique, all the well earned muscle, to get in his pants. All while telling himself it was the boy‘s own free will just because he said _‚yes‘_. Someone who hides an act of rape behind a pointless yes-or-no question. _A rapist._

 

Billy Hargrove firmly believes rapists should have piano wire tied around their balls and be towed behind a truck until they rip off. Billy Hargrove firmly believes this should happen to him. He really crossed a line this time. Maybe he did before without noticing. Mike Wheeler, crying like a little child in his arms, was all it took for him to come to that realization.

 

Then why is Billy in such an exceptional mood this morning? It‘s a Saturday. His eyes snap open to beautiful, warm sunlight, and he already feels himself grinning as if he had just woken up from the best dream of his entire life. He didn‘t dream last night, though. It‘s just that this Saturday is going to be a fantastic one. The heavenly smell from the kitchen is just more proof that Billy is going to have the time of his life today.

 

On the way over to the kitchen, Billy actually finds himself whistling an entirely made up, cheerful melody o himself that seems to say _‚Nothing‘s gonna stop me today!‘_. This doesn‘t go unnoticed. If Neil was home, there‘d be hell to pay. Just for being in a good mood, because if Neil isn‘t smiling, no one is allowed to. He isn‘t home, though.

 

It‘s just Susan and Maxine. Susan, with her usual mix of obliviousness and good intention. Maxine with nothing but suspicion, as if the reason for Billy‘s mood is his decision to murder her and finally skip town. It‘s not, despite him sometimes contemplating it. Not for real, just so he can go to sleep with a smile.

 

„Did you sleep well?“ his stepmother asks kindly.

 

„Like a baby.“ Billy lies. Explaining to her why he spent the night in nervous anticipation, why he got maybe two or three hours of sleep at best, would be futile. Actually, it would fuck up this whole day. She‘d call the police, and that would be the end of it. „I‘m starving.“

 

„Good thing I put some effort into breakfast today.“

 

„Please, you always do.“ Billy says lightly. The way he compliments his stepmother only raises more suspicion on Maxine‘s side. Her eyes narrow at him, but he could only bring himself to care if Susan hadn‘t just served him a plate of what looks like English breakfast. Complete with sausages, eggs, beans, toast, all dripping with grease. He digs in without a second thought, and the look Maxine gives him is priceless.

 

„See these babies?“ he grunts, flexing his biceps. „Protein, sister.“ Billy waves a sausage in front of her face.

 

„What are you up to?“ she hisses.

 

„A lot.“ Billy shrugs, grinning. „Gonna have some fun today.“

 

„That‘s nice, dear.“ Susan chimes in. His teasing undertone completely misses her.

 

Maxine just lowers her voice to a threatening purr. „I swear, if we have to move again because of you-“

 

„Max!“ her mother says sternly. „Stop blaming your brother already. It‘s been almost a year.“

 

„It‘s okay.“ Billy appeases. „Really.“ He doesn‘t care. A few weeks ago a remark like this would have made him clench his fists, trying not to punch his bitch of a step sister in the guts. Not today. Billy‘s grin doesn‘t budge a fraction of an inch, and no matter what Maxine might think or say, that‘s not gonna change. „Just so you know, I‘m not gonna cause any problems. I‘m gonna solve one.“

 

* * *

 

Billy didn‘t lie to Maxine back at the breakfast table. Solving a problem. That‘s an important first for him. He can‘t remember ever doing that before. Maybe attempting, but that only led to more problems because of his all-fists no-talk approach.

 

The approach is not gonna be the difference here. He‘s not intending to change it. But for once, Billy is sure it will not fail. All he can really muse over while driving past the Saturday morning commotion at five miles _below_ the speed limit is whether or not he is actually meant to be here.

 

Like, was it all just bad luck that he got caught and forced his family to move here? Is it just coincidence that he ended up in this dead-end town, that suddenly doesn‘t seem like a dead end at all anymore? Or was it fate? Does Billy even believe in fate? It‘s an uncomfortable thought, to say the least; One of the few things Billy has to keep himself sane is control.

 

On the other hand, he can at least imagine finding comfort in someone having a plan for him. A plan that involves something more meaningful than booze, parties, pussies and fistfights, something that‘s going to last.

 

Well, if Billy wants to achieve that, leave something positive behind, he‘s going to have to visit Melvald‘s General Store first. To buy condoms.

 

After carefully parking his Camaro by the side of the road, perfectly straight in the marked parking space, he soon finds himself wandering the aisles of this small town store he has never seen from the inside before. Shopping isn‘t usually his thing, at least not here. He can‘t enter a liquor store, obviously, and when it comes to drugs, there aren‘t any stores for those that Billy would know of.

 

It‘s been a while since he‘s been to any store really, and the comparison to California is almost impossible to avoid. It‘s not like this place offers a smaller variety than stores back home. It‘s just that there‘s a smaller amount of each item is present in the shelves to accommodate for the lack of space.

 

Consequently, the shelf with the condoms is as small as he expected, with the XXL section almost empty because these rednecks around here don‘t seem to know any better way to brag to their peers. _You got XXL condoms? Wow, your dong must be XXL._ It‘s no joke, he has actually heard a fifteen year old kid say something in the lines of that at school. Maybe the kid had an XXL dong, who knows, but Billy hasn‘t, so he picks a pack that should fit him.

 

If they‘re a bit loose, that‘s not gonna be a problem. Billy can‘t remember ever using condoms, but tonight he‘s going to. The girls he‘s been with up until now were either on the pill or too fucked up, drunk or high, to remember who planted a little bastard into them. Yeah, he might be a father by now, but what does it matter? Never ruined his life. But the cunt he‘s about to fuck? He needs her to remember.

 

Billy knows the woman at the cash register. It was her living room in which he tore that pussy Harrington apart last year. Her name is Byers, he thinks, and from what he can see she doesn‘t look half bad. Or wouldn‘t, if she wore some decent clothes. He still wouldn‘t fuck her. Not because she‘s batshit crazy, he doesn‘t care for that, but because it‘s obvious she cares.

 

Whenever Billy decided to be a creep over the last couple of weeks, whenever he watched his boy Mike from afar, she was there to drop off or pick up her own son, who is actually a nice looking little thing by himself. Not that he has anything on Mike, it‘s just unbelievable that a weirdo like Jonathan Byers could actually have such a cute little brother.

 

Billy checks out with the condoms and a bottle of coke, with Joyce Byers‘ eyes scanning him with some suspicion. It‘s not unusual in Hawkins. People know him around here, and Billy‘s mood sure as hell won‘t take a hit for that. He grins through the entire process, and when she sees him off with a half-heartedly muttered „Have fun.“, he proudly proclaims „I‘m gonna. Can‘t even tell you how much fun I‘m gonna have.“

 

Her suspicion turns into a full-blown scowl then, and Billy couldn‘t care less. He starts whistling his melody again while leaving the store and heading back to his car. Now it‘s just a matter of a few hours. He‘s gonna have to kill them some way.

 

* * *

 

„Solved your problem yet?“

 

Billy slowly turns his head, burping. He didn‘t expect to see Maxine again today, but then again he is sitting on his hood just down the street from the arcade. Her being around here was to be expected. The weird girl is with her, the one who rarely ever talks, which appears to boost his stepsister‘s unhealthy confidence and sass even more.

 

„Nah.“ he shrugs, serenely taking another sip from his coke that he filled up with cheap whiskey once the bottle was half empty. His toes are comfortably numb by now. „Can‘t right now. It‘s not time yet.“

 

The creepy girl narrows her eyes at him, while Maxine quips „Yeah, that‘s like you. Procrastinating much?“

 

She‘s getting far too cheeky for his taste, just because she had a chance to smash his balls in with a baseball bat all those months ago. Despite being slightly drunk already Billy keeps his cool. „Soon. Very soon. Maxine...“ he sighs. „Part of being an adult is knowing when to act. You‘re gonna learn that eventually, if you‘re lucky.“

 

She sniffs a few times, contempt spreading on her face, around her wrinkled nose. „Part of being an adult is not getting drunk in public.“ The other girl turns to whisper something to Max, her fluffy curls bouncing at every move of her head. „You‘re right, Ellie.“ Max snickers quietly. The other girl giggles, but quickly goes back to giving Billy a disapproving glare.

 

 _Ellie_ , Billy thinks. _Weird name for a weird kid_. It‘s none of his business, really. The times when he actually cared for who his stepsister hangs out with are over. Even Neil, that dumb son of a bitch, has learned that her friends won‘t be any trouble and he leaves Billy alone with the matter.

 

„You probably wanna go.“ Billy leans back against his windshield to take in as much of the sunlight as he can. It‘s reminiscent of home. He even wonders if Maxine feels it too. „I mean, if all you can do is give me shit...“

 

„Wow.“ Max says. „First good advice you‘ve ever given anyone. Just wanted to check if you were having a big mouth this morning. Looks like I‘m right.“

 

Billy doesn‘t see them off. He keeps his eyes closed, distilled relaxation from Kentucky flowing right through his veins. Still, he mumbles after them „Watch that sass, little sister. It‘s gonna cost you.“

 

He should get going anyways. Make sure everything‘s ready. This is gonna be _his night_. The engine purrs like a satisfied lion because Billy doesn‘t feel the need to rev it today. He is calm. This encounter with his stepsister should have left him boiling over with rage, but that‘s something he saves for later; Swallow it now, bury it somewhere deep inside for easy access. He‘s going to channel all that rage soon enough. Billy would even go as far as thinking this night is going to exhaust his rage-reservoir for life. Yeah, he might end up a tame little kitten when this is over..

 

The Wheeler house lies in silence when Billy parks his Camaro at a distance. The sun is still up and his car can absolutely not be seen in front of this place. More than ever. This isn‘t just about people finding out Mike Wheeler is associated with him. If there are any witnesses tonight he might wind up in jail. Though Billy doubts anyone is ever going to know about this, he can‘t be safe enough. Watching the house in the rearview must do for now.

 

Mike‘s older sister leaves first. The sun is just starting to set behind the trees. Billy knows where Nancy The Slut Wheeler is going. He‘s watched one of her shows once. Does she really think she‘s fooling anyone with that half a ton of makeup she puts on? Everyone in town knows what‘s going on by now. By all intents and purposes she‘s a great stripper. And an even better whore, from what Billy has heard. He doesn‘t care about that, though.

 

The only thing that matters for now is Mike leaving. There he is, a mere half hour after his sister, leading his younger sister, the toddler, away from the house. He didn‘t tell Billy where they‘re going, only that they can stay there as long as they want, and that it‘s safe. The street is still tinged in orange light, and even from the distance and through the mirror, Billy has to bite his lip because this light seems to be made just to illuminate his boy‘s pale skin.

 

 _His boy_. Not really. Billy sighs painfully as Mike and his sister disappear into the distance. Mike was just another victim all along. A hurt kid Billy took advantage of. It was rape, and Billy hates himself for it. But if he already is a rapist, he might as well embrace it.

 

That‘s all he can think of when he approaches the garage. The door to the basement is unlocked. No need to be quiet for this. Actually, he makes sure to stomp down with some force heading upstairs.

 

„Michael?“ a somewhat distressed, slurred voice comes from somewhere in the house. „Michael? Where were you, I‘ve been worried!“

 

Billy doesn‘t answer. But he follows the voice. It disgusts him.

 

„Come here, baby. Let‘s get ready for bed.“ Every word Karen Wheeler speaks stirs up more Bile inside of him. Until he‘s standing right in front of her in the neat living room. There she is, that _cougar_. The one mom out of all moms in this damn town he wanted to fuck just a few months back. Now there‘s nothing left of that seductive aura that used to surround her. Honestly, she‘s an appalling mess. Drunk out of her mind judging from the bottles of wine, her matted hair hanging loose and unkempt over her silk bathrobe. Her face looks limp. Numbed by alcohol. „Michael?“

 

Goddammit. He‘d much rather have her sober for this. „Think again, bitch.“ Billy snarls.

 

At least she‘s not too drunk to recognize danger. Karen Wheeler‘s eyes open wide upon realizing she‘s not talking to her son. She shrieks once, but Billy is right there to clasp his hand around her mouth. The other one soon has a firm grip on her hair. It‘s easy to steer her in any direction he wants.

 

He gets her up from the couch. He drags the struggling woman up the stairs where no one can look in through the windows. He takes a few hits that he barely feels to the stomach in the process. Billy has never been in here, but he recognizes the room of a young teen when he sees it. „Did you do it in here?“ he yells, holding her firmly while eyeing Mike‘s room. His hand on her mouth relaxes.

 

„W-what do you mean?“ Karen whimpers miserably. The fact that she‘s denying it only fuels the rage. Billy strikes her across the face with the back of his hand. She spits blood.

 

„Did you do it in here?“ he screams. „Did you?“

 

„Did _what_?“ she sobs. Just for the fuck of it Billy punches her in the guts. It sounds like she‘s about to throw up. It doesn‘t matter anyways, _where_ she did it. Billy isn‘t gonna do it in here. He drags the crying woman into her bedroom by her hair. Somewhere along the way her feet give in, so he ends up actually pulling her entire weight like that. „Please... p-please don‘t! Please!“ is all she gets out.

 

Satisfied with her fear, Billy roughly shoves her down on the King Size bed, face down on the mattress. How thoughtful of her to wear nothing but a bathrobe. Billy kneels on top of her to keep her still. There‘s no way her flailing arms can reach him like that. Her screeching and wailing doesn‘t worry him too much. It‘s a modern house, the windows look brand new, and if anything is audible from the street, it‘s a mere whisper out there.

 

Billy pulls his jeans down just far enough to get his dick out. This whole situation is so disgusting, so _not_ what Billy actually would enjoy, it‘s not even hard. He‘s not gonna get his condom on like this. It takes quite a bit of fisting his own cock to get it there, and when he finally rolls the condom over it, Karen Wheeler has gone mostly pliant underneath him, though she‘s still crying.

 

He pulls the bathrobe up. There it is, that ass that he wanted to sink his teeth into last year. It‘s just a piece of meat that belongs to a rapist bitch. One that needs to be handles accordingly. He smacks it more than once, making her wail more than she already did. The bruises become apparent withing seconds, bright red at first.

 

Billy lines himself up. There is no stretching. No foreplay that could ease her into this. Just his dick in her ass. Karen Wheeler screeches. „That what you did to him, huh?“ he snarls.

  
„Stop! Please!“ she cries.

 

„Yeah, bet your son said that too.“ Billy just fucks harder into her ripping asshole. Blood spills on the sheets. There‘s a good reason for him wearing a condom. Even with that protective layer though, it still hurts him quite a bit. He likes it tight, just not _that_ tight. He can‘t imagine this elitist whore taking it up the ass, so this is probably a first time for her.

 

Her crying confirms his assumption. What she‘s feeling is nothing short of agony, but Billy isn‘t quite satisfied. „Still think it‘s fun?“ he screams.

 

That‘s when she breaks down. „He likes it! It‘s... it‘s good for him! He's learning!“

 

„Oh yeah?“ Billy pulls out to flip her over. Karen Wheeler has stopped struggling. Her face is covered in streaks of tears and sticky snot. Billy makes sure to enter her ass again. No, that pussy isn‘t getting any attention tonight. She must be so loose she‘d barely feel it. „You like this?“

 

„No...“ she sobs as Billy ruts into her with twice the speed. „No... I-“ Karen is interrupted by Billy‘s left hand closing around her neck in a death grip, choking. He presses down on her pulse. Her fingernails soon claw at his chest, ripping a hole in his shirt.

 

„You don‘t?“ he taunts. „Hm, weird. Look how wet you‘re getting.“ Billy slides his fingers through her slit, picks up some of her juices to show her. She stinks. He releases his grip on her throat when she‘s close to passing out. She vomits all over herself.

 

While Billy keeps in fucking her like there‘s no tomorrow, there‘s no pleasure for him. His dick is hard, but that‘s about all there is on his side. He hates the feeling, actually. That dirty, smelly, drunk bitch made him a rapist. But he‘s gonna make sure she regrets it. If not for Mike‘s sake, for her own.

 

„That‘s right, you love it.“ he goes on. „Love my fucking dick in your dirty ass. You about to cum?“

 

As a matter of fact, she is. Billy knows how to pleasure a woman, and god, he wants her to cum. Of course she hates this. Of course she wants this to end. And she‘s gonna cum, if she wants or not.

 

Her asshole tightens around him, clenches in orgasmic convulsions. Billy watches with utmost satisfaction as the last vestiges of dignity leave her body. He pulls out, lets her go, and she doesn‘t even move an inch, remaining splayed out with blood oozing from her dirty ass, vomit dripping from the corners of her mouth and her nose, all silently shaking and trembling.

 

Billy wants to leave. He wants to run and never come back to this hell-house. He has to make one last thing sure, though. Taking her face to face, ignoring the sharp stench of puke, he whispers „One word of this to anyone, you‘re never gonna see them again. I‘m gonna spill. He‘s gonna spill. Think I care if I go to jail? But you got something to lose, right? Think about it.“

 

She nods, her eyes half closed. She actually nods. That‘s the moment when Billy knows she got the message. He brings his flat hand down on her overly sensitive cunt a few more times. All Karen does is gargle, eyes snapping open again.

 

Billy leaves her there in her bedroom. She trusts in her disability to stand up and call for help when he heads for the bathroom to discard the condom in the toilet and wash himself. His dick is limp again by now without even cumming. The final time Billy checks up on her, Karen Wheeler is catatonic.

 

* * *

 

It‘s late at night. Not quite midnight, but close, probably. Billy has no clue, he doesn‘t own a watch. But he still watches the house in his mirror. Until he sees him. He‘s back, dropped off by no other than the Police Chief in his truck.

 

And yet, Billy stays calm. He watches Mike step out of the Blazer with his little sister in his arms. Chief Hopper doesn‘t follow him. Karen Wheeler doesn‘t step outside. There‘s no hesitation involved when Mike approaches the front door, pulls it open and steps inside. It looks like he waves at the car one last time.

 

Whatever he told the Chief, it obviously didn‘t raise any suspicion on the fat man‘s side. Good. Very good. Billy waits a little longer, until the Blazer has rattled off and is out of sight, until he approaches the house again. Billy knows it‘s a risk, but he can‘t help himself. Just a quick glance through the window and he‘ll be gone. The kitchen is situated in the back, and that‘s where tries his luck. Successfully.

 

Mike is in there, still in his jeans and button down, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. He looks exhausted, so small and tired. But he moves with a sense of certainty that Billy admires. Does Mike really trust in Billy‘s ability to solve problems _that_ much? The boy doesn‘t even jump when his mother enters the room.

 

She‘s limping, her face is bruised and battered, and her body shaking all over when she takes place at the table opposite to him. Mike chews his cereal, looking down at the bowl in front of him. Karen Wheeler breaks down. From outside it almost looks like a play being live broadcast on a muted TV. Her arms are limp, her head resting on the table as she sobs. Mike eats slowly without looking at her.

 

Billy has seen enough. This is the end of it.

 

Back in his car, he reclines his seat. There‘s no place he‘s going to tonight anyways, so he might as well stay here. Mike isn‘t fine. Not by a long shot. He‘s most likely never going to be fine again, Billy knows that first hand. At least the boy won‘t have a reason to flee the house at night anymore. That‘s got to count for something. He‘s not coming back to Billy, and that‘s a good thing. Healthier than anything they did in the past weeks.

 

Although the backrest of his seat is reclined, Billy leans forwards, forehead against the steering wheel. He reaches out to the side to grip for _something_. The passenger‘s seat is empty. The high from earlier today is gone. He fixed everything as best as he could, and now Billy is alone. The price he pays for the comforting knowledge that someone else might make it in life, and that there won‘t be another Billy Hargrove in Hawkins. It‘s what puts him to sleep in a matter of minutes.

 

* * *

 

It must be past midnight when Billy wakes. He can‘t have slept too long because he finds his back hurting only slightly from the uncomfortable position. His surroundings are a blur at first. The steering wheel, the dashboard. The fogged windshield, milky white due to his moist breath.

 

_The sound of breathing? A pair of dark eyes, looking curious and worried?_

 

This must be a dream. It just can‘t be true. Absolutely impossible. Why would Mike be here in the car with him? Billy fixed it. Unless...

 

Billy snaps fully awake with a start. „Did she-“ he growls, but quiets down upon finding Mike shaking his head quickly. „Then why... why are you here?“

 

„Y-you don‘t w-want me anymore?“ Mike asks quietly, a sense of defeat swinging in his voice.

 

„What?“

 

„I... I get it.“ Mike goes on. „Really. Think I‘m gonna go inside.“ The boy turns to leave, igniting a sudden rush of dizzying panic in Billy.

 

„Wait!“ he pleads. „D-don‘t! Please!“ By now Billy has given in to his own weakness. He used to be appalled by it when this all started, but to hell with it. _To hell with it!_ „Of course I still want you. I thought you... you...“ But his voice gives in when Mike‘s arms close around him.

 

How? How can he be here? How can he possibly want this to go on? And how can someone going through a major growth spurt still feel so small and in need of protection? Billy holds _his boy_ close. It‘s weird; for a second Billy thinks Mike is trembling, only to find out that it‘s the other way around. God, he loves the smell of the boy‘s fluffy black hair and the way his hot breath tickles against his neck.

 

„Just wanted to go somewhere with you.“ Mike mumbles softly.

 

„Really?“ Billy smirks shakily, with a small kiss to the crown of the boy‘s head. „Wanna get comfortable for a change?“

 

Mike pulls away a bit, head tilted. „What do you mean?“

 

„I know this motel. Just if you want to.“

 

Mike snuggling onto his side is all Billy needs. He props the backrest of his seat back up and turns the key in the ignition lock. „Can you... can you stay again?“ the boy asks shyly.

 

Billy knows exactly what he means. „Anything you want.“ he murmurs, throwing the Camaro into Drive and taking off.

 

He drives the whole way to the motel two towns over with one hand at the wheel, on arm around _his boy_ , and a smile that parts his lips just wide enough to be able to taste a few salty tears.

 

Billy Hargrove. Who the hell is Billy Hargrove? For the first time in his life, he simply doesn‘t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know if I should tease this or not because I'm not quite done with it, but there's a draft for a final installment in this series resting on my hard drive. One last Byers chapter.


End file.
